“I don’t give a single fuck about the car getting dirty.”
Vanessa stops, wrapping her arms around me and taking me by surprise. “Thank you for coming out here and finding us.” She releases me and slides into the back where Cooper gets in beside her.
Chloe watches their doors close, and I move closer to her, brushing a streak of dirt that crosses her cheek with my thumb. “This has been a really long day. I just need you to get in the car so it can finally be over.”
She closes her eyes for a brief second, and when she looks at me again, I see it—recognize that confusion and muddled hope. “Thank you,” she says.
I swallow before taking what feels like my first breath in several hours. “I’m still an arse.”
“Oh, I know.” She flashes a smile, and then turns, getting into the passenger side of my car.
“We’re like Pigpen,” Vanessa says. “Leaving a trail of dirt behind us.”
Chloe scrunches her nose. “At least the lobby was pretty empty.”
“Seriously. It gave a whole new meaning to the walk of shame.”
Chloe chuckles as she toes off her shoes in the entryway. “You want to shower first?”
“Use my shower,” I tell her.
She cuts her eyes to me like I’ve just invited her into my bed.
“I’m not going to spy on you.”
Vanessa laughs, but doubt has Chloe’s eyebrows hitching.
“Come on,” I tell her.
“I need my shower bag,” she protests.
I shake my head. “It’s stocked with any amenity you could need.”
She bites the inside of her lip like she does when she’s nervous—it’s one of the many details of Chloe Robinson I’ve learned and memorized in the past eight days without thought or choice.
We pass her bedroom door and reach the master suite. I push the door open, the motion-sensing lights instantly illuminate the long rectangular room and wall of windows that renders Chloe speechless. It’s twice the size of the bedroom they’re sharing, with a full sitting area and king-size bed.
“Wait until you see the bathroom,” I tell her.
We step into the bathroom, and her eyes dance around the space before finally landing on me.
“Truth or dare?” I ask her.
Her eyes flare with surprise, and then she blinks several times. I know it’s not a fair request—she’s exhausted and dehydrated and likely has heatstroke.
“Can I hear both before I decide?”
“No.”
She holds her breath for several seconds before releasing it slowly. “Truth.”
I was hoping for dare, but this works, too.
“Why do you avoid me?”
“I already told you why.”
I shake my head. “You’ve avoided me since before you even knew me.”
“Dare,” she whispers.
“You know what I’m going to dare you to do.”
Her skin is at least two shades darker than when she left this morning, streaked with dirt and sand that I imagine myself rubbing from her body.
“Who was she?”
My thoughts complete a full somersault, and I shake my head, struggling to think of anything but Chloe naked. “Who?”
“The girl in New Orleans.”
I shake my head again. “Who?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business.” Something snaps in her attention, the edge of vulnerability she had edged toward now far in the distance. “I avoid you because you overwhelm me. Because I like rules. Because you’re Cooper’s best friend and I’d never make him choose. Because I know the score with you—know I would be a blip on your radar.” She stares at me, brazen, and completely closed off.
My thoughts churn between each of her points that likely reveal far more than she intended—proves she’s thought of me. Thinks of me. She tries to barricade herself from those thoughts and me, and right now, I’m on the other side of that door, and I can tell she senses it as she works to decide if it’s me or her insecurities who has her thoughts balanced on the ledge.
She starts to turn away and I lift my arm, my palm connecting with the wall, caging her in. That spark lights in her green eyes as she looks at me, panic and lust and desire burning so fucking bright I can feel the heat. “You changed and said dare.”
Chloe’s eyes narrow.
“I answered your question.”
“With half-truths.”
She raises her chin, confirming I’m right.
“Do you know what I’m going to dare you to do?”
She rolls her eyes and sighs before gritting her teeth. “Tyler, will you kiss me?” She couldn’t sound more petulant if she tried.
I grin, feeding her anger. “I was just going to dare you to smile.”
Her frown deepens. “I’m taking a shower. Watch if you want. I don’t care. You’ll do whatever you want anyways.” She twists away from me, shoving at my arm. I move, allowing her space, realizing too late that she’d cracked the door with her half admission and has slammed it shut as she rips her tank top off, the red dirt from the desert, staining the gray fabric. She pulls open the shower door, staring at the multiple levers for several seconds before her shoulders sink.
I step behind her, placing a hand on the bare skin of her waist, and turn the shower on, lowering the heat from the scalding temperature I prefer. “The amenities are under the counter, and there’s a robe on the back of the door,” I tell her. And with a single look, she guts me, her eyes glassy and jaw clenched with pride.
“Chloe,” I begin.
But she shakes her head. “It’s been a really long day. Can you just give me some space?”
I remain in place, wanting to say no, wishing to apologize, needing to know if she’s okay. I think of a thousand things I should have asked her and offered.
“Please?”
I close the bathroom door on my way out and drop my head against it as I pull in a long breath, willing myself not to go back in there and beg for forgiveness because I went too far this time, crossed a barrier when she was her weakest like a selfish
